


moments

by parkerprotectionprogram



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Tooth Rotting Fluff, it's just really really cheesy, its short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-06-14 11:28:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15387789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkerprotectionprogram/pseuds/parkerprotectionprogram
Summary: you live for moments like this





	moments

**Author's Note:**

> w.c: 332
> 
> warnings: short, sweet fluff
> 
> a.n: i’ve just really been in my sleepy mood for a while so hopefully this isn’t terrible

Your favorite thing about being with Peter, aside from the cheesy jokes and kindness, was moments of peace. Days where after school the two of you head straight to your house and free from responsibilities, bask in the afternoon sunlight. Your room has always been your safe place away from the world and until you’d met Peter, you hadn’t realized it had been missing one thing. Him.

Peter takes to likening you to a lazy cat when you find your sunspot on your bed, snuggling under the sheets, your legs tangling with his. The soft warmth of his skin radiating through his sweater and the traces of his fingertips on your scalp is enough to lull you to sleep. The light indie songs on his playlist help you tune out everything else.

You manage to stay awake sometimes and those are the days he presses soft kisses to your hairline, murmuring about something interesting he learned while you drift drowsily somewhere in between sleep and consciousness. Every once in a while he’ll lean down and brush his nose against yours before pressing a short kiss to the corner of your mouth.

On days when the sun is filtered out by gloomy clouds and dark skies you like to watch the rain trickle down your window, clad in Peter’s grey sweater. The material is soft against your skin and his body warm as he holds you closely. These are the days that you wake up to the smell of rain coming in through the window Peter’s left open in his departure, the sky a blanket of black polluted by the light of Queens.

Other times, you find yourself holding the brown haired boy, speaking in low, hushed tones about nearly anything and everything until your throat grows hoarse, his arms wrapped around your waist and head on your stomach. When you run out of words, you card your fingers through his hair, skimming lightly over his neck.

You live for moments like this.

 


End file.
